


but for now it's time to run

by freakedelic



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Chan, M/M, Pedophilia, Robin!Dick, Trans Dick Grayson, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Vaginal Fingering, hmmm . . . heavy underage, i'm hesitant to tag this severe underage bc it's not but, violent transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: “Please let me go,” Robin says quietly.“No,” Slade says. Robin can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m going to watch you squirm until I’m finished.”[anon: Idk if your still taking prompts but some trans boy Robin? But like when first started out as Robin and maybe he runs into Slade? ]
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1288667
Comments: 17
Kudos: 164





	but for now it's time to run

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt from my [tumblr](https://gothamtrashparty.tumblr.com/)!!! baby robin makes me go uwu. mind the warnings and my societal oppression kink. title is from "run boy run" by woodkid.  
> edit: yall ily for going to bat for me but please don't feed the anti in the comments section! i've reported everything and it should be dealt with soon.

Robin’s not sure what the awful, awful man expects when he shoves rough fingers down the front of his uniform. A gloved hand covers his mouth, muscled arms like iron bands holding him still. Robin’s gone limp, but as Slade hand moves he thrashes again, desperately.

This can’t be happening.

The man’s fingers bulge in the fabric, slightly low, finding nothing. Robin can imagine his small confusion as his knuckles disappear, going lower. Gloved fingers find his slit. Robin sucks in air behind the glove, thrashing again. What’s he doing? What does he _want_?

“What’s this?” A laugh almost in his ear, but too above him. A finger drags between his lips. “You pretending to be a boy like the big bad bat?”

Robin kicks, harder. The hand is loose on his mouth and he bites down. It recedes just enough for him to snarl at him with all the viciousness of a nine year old boy. “I _am_ a boy. Let go of me, you - you - evil little - awful man - ”

The man is laughing again. Fingers probe at him and Robin struggles against those iron bands of muscle holding his arms down. He should be able to flip and punch and hit _back_. Where’s Bruce? Bruce said everything would be okay. This _isn’t_ okay. Robin doesn’t know what’s happening, but it isn’t okay.

“Bloody b-bastard!” Robin says loudly, long legs still trying to kick back despite the fingers moving in his uniform. His face burns. He’s not supposed to say that, but he heard Al say it once. There’s more laughter. The masked man just thinks he’s funny.

“If you’re a little boy, how come you’ve got a slick little cunt, huh?” Suddenly, the heavy fingers are somehow - _inside_ Robin, in the very worst kind of way. Robin yells, trying to buck out of the man’s grip, but that only makes this things _inside_ him worse.

“Let go of me! Someone! Someone help me, please, someone - !” Robin is screaming at the top of his lungs until a hand slaps over his mouth.

“Listen, kid,” the man growls, “you better learn to shut up, or you’ll be going back to your daddy in pieces. Here’s the deal - you shut up and sit still, and you might make it back alive. Nod if you understand.”

Robin chokes, fingers still somewhere they shouldn’t be. Something is dripping down his face - tears. They can’t be tears. He’s not supposed to _cry_.

“I said _nod_ if you _understand_ , girl.”

He’s going to kill him. This is really happening. The man is really going to kill him. Robin whimpers through the hand. He nods.

“You won’t make any noise. Nod if you understand.”

Robin nods, too quick this time. The hand loosens. The tears are still free to trickle down his cheeks, making him even redder. He doesn’t make any noise.

“My name’s Slade, kid. You can take that back to your bat.” The fingers start moving again and Robin whimpers.

“Not a girl,” he insists.

The fingers plunge into him. Robin can’t help but arch and gasp, legs shuddering. It _hurts_. It feels wrong and disgusting and bad.

“Tight,” the man, Slade, whispers in his ear. The fingers move. They feel wrong.

“Please let me go,” Robin says quietly.

“No,” Slade says. Robin can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m going to watch you squirm until I’m finished.”

So he will be finished. The awful moving around of fingers between his thighs will _end._ Nobody else has ever touched him there and Robin wants nobody to ever touch him there again.

“When will you be finished?” Robin asks, shivering.

“When you learn to like it,” Slade murmurs. His fingers are scissoring Robin open, cold and mean, Robin’s bare thighs shivering in Gotham’s twilight. They twitch inside him. Robin doesn’t know how this will _ever_ feel good. He’ll be here a long time. He squirms again. Slade’s grip tightens dangerously.

“Struggle and it will _hurt_ ,” he promises, and Robin is so, so ashamed that he stays still.

“I don’t like it,” Robin whines instead. His legs have to be spread as Slade moves around inside him. A thumb moves down further, shoving the little panties down Robin’s thighs and brushing his thumb, lower, lower.

A sound comes out of Robin’s throat. There’s something Slade’s brushing against. With every twitch it feels like all his nerves down _there_ are on fire, shivering down his legs.

“You feel that?” Slade murmurs. “Bet nobody ever showed you what your cunt was good for, hm?”

He _pinches_.

Robin bucks against him with a cry. He can’t help it. He hopes the man isn’t mad at him for making noise, but he can’t help it. Robin doesn’t want to make noise.

“How does that feel?”

“I don’t - I don’t know. It feels … weird. I don’t like it. Please stop, please - ”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Slade says, exasperation in his voice so like Bruce’s but _not_. “You don’t know what you want, do you?”

Fingers brush him there again. They curl inside him. Robin feels _heat_ , down low, in between his legs. He tries to press his thighs together, but that does nothing. He knows there has to be something wrong.

His parents never did this. Bruce never did this.

Slade’s fingers continue to move, and Robin can see the knuckles again, coated in black and something wet, working in and out of him. It hurts less than it does, but it still hurts. The heat burns through him.

Robin is crying again. He can’t stop the sob from escaping him. Slade yanks him up by the fingers inside him, moving there at a different angle. Something is building inside him, and Robin has no idea what it is. It scares him, makes him shiver in the cool air.

“Can’t even take it like a man,” Slade tells him. The fingers move faster and Robin’s thighs twitch, trying to move back together. There’s too much sensation, and it’s so _wrong_ , even when it sends sparks through his nerves.

His legs kick without anyone making them. Robin shudders, trying not to make noise as the fingers move, and move, and move, his nerves turning to heat under his skin. Robin wants to be but he _won’t_ , he _will not_ , because Bruce wouldn’t, and he has to be good for Bruce. 

Slade brushes that one _place_ again with his thumb and Robin lets out a mewling noise, legs kicking and shuddering, the scaled green pressed aside. It’s building, it’s getting bigger, but he doesn’t know what _it_ is.

“Never had an orgasm, before, have you?” Slade asks. “Guess your daddy didn’t teach you so good after all.”

“What’s - what’s a - _ah_ \- please - what - ”

It crashes over him all at once. Robin’s legs jerk without his consent as he’s lost to the heated pain-pleasure sliding along his legs, clenching around the thing inside him with muscles he didn’t know he had, panting in the cool air. It’s seconds later that he finds himself again, shivering in Slade’s hold.

“See?” Slade teases. “You did like it.” The fingers move out of him and they hurt when they do, Robin’s legs closing around him. He’s dropped unceremoniously to the ground, staring up at a black and orange shape.

“I didn’t! And,” Robin adds spitefully, “I’m a _boy_.”

“Might want to stop telling people that, kid,” Slade wipes fingers off on his thigh, and Robin can see for the first time the impressive arsenal on him. “Not everyone’s as nice as I am. They might take _offense_ when you’ve got the wrong parts.” He leers.

Robin sniffs. He wipes tears out of his eyes, trying to pull his pants - or what passes for them - back on. The place between his legs _hurts_.

Slade is gone, when he looks back at him.

Robin pushes himself up against the alley wall and goes to find Bruce.


End file.
